The Color of Destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr
by Necro the Magic Dragon
Summary: It was prophesized by the wild dragons long ago that very special dragons and riders would be born to find and confront a threat, just what it is none not even the Eldunari are aware of.
1. Violet: The Lost One

The color of destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter I – Violet; The Lost One

Cold, clammy and sweaty he awoke. Who he was exactly he was not sure, where he was he did not know. All he knew was that the bed was warm, there was a fire in the hearth, and bright sunlight was seeping through a single large window. Blearily the young man got up, completely confused as to everything that his head hurt, but he decided not to think about it. He wasn't about to discover what he had lost in his amnesia by sitting around in bed. An earth-shaking noise rumbled from outside, alarmed the youth scrambled to his window. Gazing outside he caught sight of the yawning maw belonging to a massive, blue, sparkling… thing.  
Whatever that thing was outside, it didn't look friendly. And it's sheer size alone left him feeling very, very tiny, and weak. Still, fearful or not he desired to know what that thing was, so he started off the way he was going before. The place seemed to be a castle, outside of his room the halls were floored with fine rugs and great tapestries displaying the same blue creature and a man fighting beside, and apparently on it. Wait… on it? What manner of person could ride such a fearsome creature? Somehow he got the feeling that this castle belonged to the monster and its rider.

When all the tapestries were passed the young man came across a mirror, he stopped to look at himself, as he didn't remember what he looked like. What he saw was a shaggy mane of back hair, two bright orbs of startling violet pointed ears, and somewhat pointed teeth. What exactly was he? He remembered being around humans, and he knew humans didn't have half of his features, in fact; they were almost opposite to him in every way. He heard nothing come up to him, but from right beside him came a voice brimming with knowledge and authority, "So, your awake are you?" Startled, he cringed back, righting himself again he said shortly, "Yes," finding his voice to be rather deep and large somehow. "Good." Responded the other, "We found you collapsed along our way back from Alagaesia, I healed your wounds and left you to rest, you've been out for at least a week."

After hearing that he blanched, then his stomach rumbled ominously. Normally people wouldn't be able to hear it, but the man's large pointed ears seemed to escape that logic, he grinned with an amused look. "I take it you haven't eaten in forever, have you? Well we can fix that, the Dwarven cooks who opted to live here brought with them a fine Nagra!" The youth had absolutely no idea what a Nagra was, but it sounded like food, and food he liked the sound of.

Sometime down the hall his host became grim, and he quietly asked him. "Do you know anything about the object you were found with?" The amnesiac kid shook his head, not aware that he had any possessions to be found with. The man paused, but it didn't take him long to come to the conclusion he did, "Well… you can't be lying, because you have been speaking the entire time in the ancient language." He blinked, "What-now language? This is the only tongue I know how to speak…" The man left it at that, "That's besides the point, what i found you with was a large, oval shaped violet stone. Are you sure you know nothing of it?" He shook his head, "I don't own anything at all from what I know, but I don't seem to know anything… I hope I didn't steal it." The man snorted, "I don't think you could've, it's a dragon egg, and unlike any I have ever seen. You wouldn't be found at al if you had stolen a dragon egg."  
Then it came to him, that great blue monster outside, was really a Dragon…


	2. Eragon Argetlam, Shadeslayer, Kingkiller

The color of destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter II – Eragon Argetlam, Shadeslayer and Kingkiller

"Dragon…?" The Lost one said blankly, only to be answered with a raised eye-brow by his host. "Yes, a Dragon. And by the look of the egg it is in not a normal one either." The pair were now in a large lounge area, and his host had seated him without farther ado so he could show him. Holding the case he placed it in his host said. "I have traced the magic about it, and have come to the conclusion that you did not indeed take it, no. Someone sent it to you by magic, and the force of impact must have knocked you out." The Lost One looked to the floor, "Oh… I don't really understand, but could the impact to my head have made me lose so much of my identity?" His host gave an agreeing grunt, "Most likely, forgive me but I examined your memories the first time you wandered out of your room, you were half mad so I doubt you remember it. But you have absolutely no identity what so ever, so little information there is that your True-Name is hidden from me. Not that I would have wrested it from you, I only checked the depth of your condition." The Lost One didn't seem to mind this man invading his mind, he seemed to mean well enough. "Can… can you fix it?" The Elf-ish man looked forlorn, "I'm sorry, but without knowing what those memories were to begin with I cannot replace them, I'm afraid you'll have to live and make new ones, perhaps in time you will learn who you are."

Deciding not to think about it the youth asked about the chest, his host jumped as if startled, "Oh, right yes, forgive me." He unlocked the lock box with a word, and opened the lid to reveal the large violet stone within. "This is the egg you were found with." And so he stared at it, entranced, it was indeed not like a normal dragon egg, but the Lost One wouldn't know about that. But from what he could see it was an oval shaped stone with white veins running all along it, what made it different was the design around the shell. It was covered with a large, heart on the front, its edges lined with several Eldunari and in the very center two dragons flying in a heart shape as well.

Seeing his guest staring at the pattern on the egg the host elaborated. "The Eldunari tell me it is one piece of a prophesy told in the days of the wild dragons. If what they say is true, then the hatchling's Wyrd is to find the Heart of the World." Now the Lost One was really lost, "Heart of the World, transported to me? B-but why would it do that? And who are you to tell me of this?"

His host introduced himself some-what sternly, a trait he had inherited from his father now that he was much older. "I am Eragon Argetlam, Shadeslayer and Kingkiller, and also the founder of the new Riders. I tell you this because I have a theory, and if my theory is correct…" The silence made the Lost One apprehensive, "Then w-what?" He reached down and tapped the egg, "Then she is yours, as you are hers… I must find out, the Eldunari are agitated, the prophesy eggs are of the utmost importance to them." Having an idea already, he asked to confirm, "What would you have me do, Eragon-Elda?" Eragon grinned at the suffix, and with am exited twinkle in his eye he said, "I want you to care for the egg for a time, and see if she chooses you… or not." Then Eragon frowned, looking as if great weight was being pressed against his mind, or he had an extremely bad migraine, after a moment he spoke, "Valdr would like to speak with you."

Without answering the Lost One opened up his mind to hear the invisible voice Eragon spoke of, and a great rumbling voice said shortly. "_Speak her name, and she will hear…" _ After that there was no more, just a riddle and a purple rock.


	3. Hjarta

The color of destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter III – Hjarta

The Lost One asked Eragon what Valdr meant, but he just shook his head, apparently he didn't know any better, "Valdr rarely makes sense, and if by name he means true name that is impossible. She is dormant within, not a single stirring thought, which is an oddity among dragon eggs." He paused, "But if he means the name her Rider would grant her, than I guess it's up to you to figure it out. It will be much harder then it was for me, for my father told me of Saphira, and I got to ask her in person what name she wanted, you… well you have to guess."

So he asked permission to leave with the egg, which Eragon granted with zero hesitation. So with the large violet egg nestled in his arms he went to a high balcony. Sitting on a stone chair and gazing at the beautiful valley sprawled out before the castle. He sighed with content at the sight, rocking the egg absent mindedly, running his fingers along the heart shaped design. "Hjarta, what could the Skulblaka of Hjarta possibly be named?"  
The egg rocked and squeaked and, alarmed, the Lost One gazed at it, but it had grown silent. He paused, thinking about what he had just been saying aloud. "… Hjarta?" As if in answer the egg rolled out of his lap and cracked open. "Oh… well that didn't take as long as I thought."

~Eragon~  
Eragon was still sitting in the lounge area when the kid he found had left, that was until he heard a triumphant roar from outside, after which Saphira contacted him. "_Eragon! The hatchling has emerged!" _ Eragon sat up sharply, "_Already? How!" _Saphira showed him an image of the front balcony, where she had been watching the Lost One, "_That Two-legs muttered to it for a moment, and after accidently saying 'Hjarta' a couple times the hatchling rolled off of him and emerged with enthusiasm." _Eragon wasted no time; he grabbed Brisingr and sprinted up to the balcony.

~The Lost One~  
Hjarta was beautiful, that was all he could think about, her scales shimmered in every shade of purple he found appealing, her leathery wings webbed with strong pulsing veins, her small pointed teeth adding a cuteness that he would not forget even when she became as massive as Saphira. And finally, her Violet eyes, they were the exact same shade as his own… Without thinking, he had an urge he couldn't resist, he reached out with his right hand and placed it on her back. And just as Eragon burst outside onto the balcony he was wracked by icy-electricity that caused his eyes to flash with color. When the lights left all was dark, but he could feel the light coming back.

When his eyes focused he saw Eragon, Hjarta and Saphira all looking at him where he sat. "Uh, did I do something wrong?" Eragon laughed, Saphira let out this odd growl he couldn't recognize and Hjarta… Hjarta cocked her head at him and sent a feeling of immense curiosity to him. He did not resist, like Eragon had in his youth. And when their minds were connected she gave a happy blink and started to purr almost like a cat.  
Eragon pointed at his right hand, "Looks like I have a new apprentice…"


	4. The Blacksmith of Farthen Dur

The color of Destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter IV – The Blacksmith of Farthen Dur

Grimsborith Bruenor Brishjart of clan Skulknurl was the epitome of Dwarfdom, Ever since the first Dwarf rider was made; the clan had been celebrated as heroes. The first Dwarf rider founded the clan, and sired his father just before coming to a terrible end. But there were two other dwarven riders, so the rest of the clans didn't see an issue. Bruenor did.

He was the most prodigious smith in all of Farthen Dur, the pride of his clan and Grimsborith to boot. He spent his entire being trying to solve an issue with enchanting weapons and armor. One that King Orik's foster-brother Eragon had solved long ago. "How does one make the elements sprout from the essence of a blade?" Bruenor muttered in Dwarvish, cursing slightly as he pondered the conundrum. Then, he gazed at his father's inheritance, cursing again as he gazed at the blood red stone-like object. His grandfather, the first Dwarf Rider sired this egg from his dragon, but it refused to hatch for any in Alagaesia. Judging from the other eggs he had seen, this one was different.

The blood-red shell was covered with Flames on the left and right side, but on the front it displayed the morning star, the top and bottom depicted bubbling magma as well. "Barzul." Bruenor cursed again, and in the human tongue he said with slight contempt "Why don't yeh hatch y'durned thing?" Frustrated at the eggs lack of response even after a full dwarf generation Bruenor turned away. However the egg's design did spark an idea in his head, quick as a Feldunost he snatched his axe, Fire-fang. Quietly he chanted to it in what he knew of the ancient language, he inherited some magical ability from his line, but it only seemed to apply to that which he was passionate about.

After an hour straight of chanting with his experimental power imbued into the cool metal Bruenor ran his finger along the edge, when he felt no heat, like he thought he would he cursed again and drew away. Accidently cutting his finger he became slightly enraged, but the rage within him seemed to activate something, for as soon as he became angry Fire-fang lit up like one of their magic lamps. Its dark red flames licking the edge of the axe without harming it.  
Bruenor was pleased beyond measure, but unfortunately for him, the fire was fueled by anger alone, and his happiness caused the flame to fade entirely. Turning back to the egg he muttered to it more, "Barzul, yeh did it didn't yeh? Yer durned flame patterned shell solved mine riddle. But still y'wont hatch." As if to sass back to him, the egg squeaked indignantly, but did no more. Stunned and intrigued, Bruenor took the egg with him this time. Back to his room, and perhaps to Isidar Mithrim, for inspiration if nothing else.

Bruenor would never admit it, but he had grown attached to the egg over the years he has had it, and even though it has only squeaked a few times it was always in reaction to him. Thus Bruenor came to believe it would hatch for him, unfortunately this was not a normal egg, so even if he was the dragon's rightful rider. Unless his name was spoken the dragon would not come out.

Bruenor didn't know this of course, all he knew was that the egg was a cheeky twit intent on aggravating him until he joined his ancestors in the stone. Without a word to anyone the dwarf settled into bed, and would ponder on the egg the following day.


	5. Heart Shaped Silver Palm

The Color of Destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter V – Heart Shaped Silver Palm

Eragon gazed at the lad's silver palm curiously, it wasn't the same shape he was used to. No, it was in the shape of a heart, the symbol of his Wyrd. He asked privately with his mind, "_Saphira, do you know why his Argetlam is shaped differently?" _Saphira blinked her inner eyelid once, "_Hmm… Perhaps it is the dragon he has bonded to, she seemed to have many hearts about her shell." _Umaroth added, "_You are correct Brightscales, she is the prophesized Dragon of heart, thus everything about her is of the heart, including her mark upon the lost hatchling." _ Saphira felt pleased in Eragon's mind, and he felt that at least one mystery was solved with little trial, "_Thank you, Umaroth-Elda." _

~The Lost One~  
Eragon had the Lost One on his feet with haste that stemmed from he knew not what, it was all he could do to scoop Hjarta into his arms and head after him. While they walked, Hjarta continued to poke his mind every few seconds, drinking in his every thought and feeling, absorbing the ancient language, as neither of them could speak anything else. Correction, Hjarta couldn't speak yet. All she did was share feelings, not even images yet. The Lost One didn't know if she'd ever be able to share anything more, so he deigned to speak with emotions to Hjarta whenever possible.

The walk down to the mirror room was only about ten minutes, but the sheer amount and speed of information that he shared with Hjarta, it seemed like hours. Without even realizing what he was doing he was raising her to be an intelligent creature, even among fellow dragons. Because he had nothing to hide from his bonded one, he was melded with her consciousness more completely than almost any other rider was at this stage, not cringing from the contact in fear like most do.  
Eragon opened up the well-lit half-circle room with a word, revealing a large mirror taking up the entirety of the adjacent wall. Eragon whispered some words that he could not hear, but darkness swirled within the glassy depths, and from the image arose-

~Arya~  
Arya Drottning sat anxiously on her forest sung throne, Eragon had contacted her recently explaining the strange egg and the boy he found with it. Since then she had been awaiting further news, her and Firnen had hardly flown because she dare not miss Eragon's call. But as her communication mirror shifted to Eragon's Mirror room she leaped out of her royal seat, Firnen waking beside her. She touched two fingers to her lips, "Atra esterni ono thelduin, Eragon." He responded in kind, "Atra du evarinya ono varda, Arya Drottning."

Slightly impatient she asked without any more pleasantries, "What news of the egg?" Eragon chuckled and introduced the figure standing beside him, "This is who I call the Lost One, he does not have a name that he can remember but-"Hjarta poked her head up from the boy's arms, "This is Hjarta, she hatched for him after he spoke her name." Arya stared unblinkingly at the boy and the newly hatched dragon, she raised her own silver palm to him, "Eka fricai un Shur'tugal." Then the boy rose his own, revealing his anomaly, Arya blinked, and shook her head. "Eragon… I don't know what this means, but I will have to spend much time discussing it with the other elves, I take it you will do the same with the Eldunari?"

Eragon nodded, "I will have to spend as much time with them as I will be training him and Hjarta. This prophesy could be dangerous, and it might affect more than just Alagaesia. I think the whole roundness of the world will be involved." Then, altering the spell so that they could speak with their minds Eragon whispered her true name and his farewells, Arya responded in kind, feeling a pang in her heart along with the shudders that came with her true name.


	6. Red: Isidar Mithrim and Sol

The Color of Destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter VI – Red: Isidar Mithrim and Sol

Bruenor stomped briskly up to the level that he could best view the star sapphire, clutching the red egg in front of him even as his battle axe bounced on his back. Taking a seat on a private bench Bruenor gazed up at the precious gem, no matter how many times he laid eyes on it, the star sapphire never ceased to amaze and inspire him. It's color and carved shape alone were enough to realize something in his memory.

Once upon a time he gazed at the egg, only to see an image of Isidar Mithrim on the patch of shell he previously thought blank. Turning the egg over he saw it there, to his great astonishment, he said to it with his eyes crinkled some-what in Dwarvish. "So you too are inspired by the grandeur of Isidar Mithrim? As it should be, all the races should gaze up in awe at the great gem…"

He stared at the gem a moment longer, and in that time it flashed bright white, blinding Bruenor as a great and powerful voice spoke one word into his mind. "_**Sol…"**_ His vision returning and the echoes in his mind subsiding Bruenor repeated the word, "Sol? Now what in Guntra's name is that supposed t'mean ya durned voice in mine head?" As if in answer, the egg squeaked, and rocked off the bench where he left it, rolling over to Bruenor and cracking open faster than the Dwarf could possibly run.  
As expected of Bruenor's charming personality he muttered under his breath, "Barzul, yeh took yer durned time yeh fire-breathin' lizard… Sol…"

~The Lost One~  
Eragon had allowed Hjarta and he to spend the first week or so doing whatever they pleased, the pair would eat together, mostly meat. Sleep together, though he knew that would become harder as she got larger. And most importantly they remained inconstant communication; Hjarta had now learned to use images, much to his surprise. And when he learned of this he began sharing sights and smells that went along with the few memories he had before she hatched and the rare times they separated.

Her favorite thing to do would be to show him himself through her eyes, and then hum softly while snuggling up to him. He enjoyed this as well, not just for the companionship but also because through her eyes, every shade of purple shown forth with brilliance, while greens were less prominent. That and through her eyes, he looked strong and sure, as well as loving, it comforted him to know that he looked the way he felt. "_Hjarta" _ he would whisper softly in his mind, just before they both passed into dreams.

~Arya~  
After Eragon had left, she bit her lower lip, almost drawing blood. She wasn't entirely sure what pained her so, but she knew it must be two things. One, she refrained to mention the meteor that fell, bringing with it Adamantine and a green egg. Why oh why could she not have just mentioned the egg? Is it because she didn't want to distract him? Possibly, news of another special egg would cause him to visit Alagaesia again, something she yearned. But she couldn't bear to do it, she was too confused. Instead, she and the Alfakyn examined the wind-like patterns on the egg constantly, all the while debating whether to involve Eragon Shadeslayer, or not.


	7. The Pride of Clan Skulknurl

The Color of Destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter VII – The Pride of Clan Skulknurl

Bruenor believed very strongly in tough love, as such he didn't even bother to pick Sol up, or tell him to follow, he left it up to the hatchling to do as it will. But Bruenor was forgetting one very important part, he had yet to touch Sol yet, Sol snarled and pounced at Bruenor's leg. Bruenor bent over to get him off, roaring as well, only to have Sol get what he wanted, as the cold waves wracked through Bruenor, Sol hummed with satisfaction, laughing the dragon's strange laugh.

When Bruenor got up he had forgotten what happened, this was probably a good thing, because the surly dwarf would've had half a mind to wring the young dragon's neck if he remembered. What looked to be the entirety of his clan surrounded him where he lay, with the hatchling curled up on his broad chest.  
He gazed at each awed face in turn, "What are all yeh starin' at? So what if I got a durned fire-breathin' lizard now, I'm still Bruenor Brishjart!" One of the clan members responded, "We know mine Grimsborith, but still, you fulfill the very purpose of our clan by this event, It is only right we admire." Bruenor remained silent; he got up, holding Sol now in his arms as to not wake him, and tromped away, not wanting any more Knurlan contact for a time.

The hatchling cracked open an eye and looked directly into Bruenor's, and then walked his mind around, not through Bruenor's defences as if the wall were not even there. The red-bearded Dwarf flinched, but realised the contact wasn't hostile, even if the dragon was feeling rather smug. It's mixture of feelings would've roughly translated to. "Your my rider, so there."

So there it was plain as day, clan Skulknurl was built on Dwarven Dragon Riders, and he had just become one, so now. With his Flame shaped Argetlam, he has become the Pride of Clan Skulknurl.

~The Lost One~  
"_Love",_ The word resonated in his mind, it took him a moment to realize where it was coming from, the voice was so soft and caring it was hard for him to picture it coming from a dragon, but yet it did. Hjarta spoke her first word, and she wasn't just saying it absently either, she was calling her Rider Love. The Lost One had no qualm with this, he had no name that he could remember, and she ought to call him something right? "_Hjarta, I never taught you that word, where did you learn it?" _Hjarta merely shrugged her wings and blew a puff of smoke out of her nostrils. Apparently she didn't know either, and it's the only word she knew, so she could hardly explain further.

~Bruenor~  
Sol was an energetic little critter, and a sassy one too, Bruenor would have to try to hate him after he learned how to talk. Because Sol had the heart of a Dwarf, he couldn't help but smile when no one was looking, because as he watched Sol at play, as was his new duty given to him by the clan, he noticed that Sol liked to make things, especially out of stone and earth. By the end of the day Sol had made himself a house of sorts out of stone, wood and mud. Bruenor tested it, and it was strong, the surly dwarf was impressed, the dragon was only hours old and yet could build a structure strong enough to resist a sledge hammer if he cared to test it. "Y'know Sol, I think we migh' get along just fine after all…"


	8. Whispers on the Wind

The Color of Destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter VIII – Whispers on the wind

Nahli's waking dreams were fraught with gales and shadows, her first nightmare in all of her fifty years of life. Still young by the standards of the Alfakyn, Nahli had not once ventured out of Ellesmera, nor had there been any reason to. But now… now that she had 'tasted' the scents of other lands through the wind in her dreams, an unbearable curiosity enveloped her. And with it a name, the wind had whispered to her; "_Fethrkonungr" _  
The name she knew, meant 'King of Birds' but who could the name be for? Blagden? An eagle? She sought to try both, first to find an eagle, as it seemed more likely to Nahli…

~Hjarta~  
Her Rider was asleep now, but her mind could not rest. She felt an unexplainable urge to visit Eragon's weapons armory. While in there, as the magically bound doors flung open with a touch of her snout, Hjarta gazed at a plethora of Rider's swords, each different size and shape, and color too. Hjarta would touch every weapon that caught her eye with her snout, saying, "_For Love?"_ each time, and each time she wasn't satisfied she would turn away and puff a bit of smoke out of her nostrils.  
Finally, frustrated she felt the innate magic surge within her, and three Rider swords came to her. One a Katana, a Broadsword and the third a Flamberge, next she shaped them, all on them into one. And with a triumphant squeak her result was… A Dagger. Hjarta gazed at its purple heart-shaped jewel hilt, and it's plain blade and lack of cross guard with wonderment. Though it may be plain, Hjarta knew that it would become whatever the Lost One needed with growth, satisfied she picked it up into her mouth, "_Sharp-Rider-Fang… For Love."_

The Lost One~  
Something had been poking him in the hand for the last ten minutes of his sleep, thinking it was Hjarta wanting to play or something like that he sat up groggily. Only to find Hjarta looking at him endearingly whilst poking him in the hand with the blade of a dagger, "_Hjarta! Where did you get that? That isn't a toy you know, blades can kill." _ She showed him the memory of what she did last night, everything from her sights, to smells and even her thoughts, when she was done he looked at her with renewed wonder. _"You made that… for me?" _Hjarta hummed and dropped the hilt into his hand, "_Sharp-Rider-Fang for Love." _

~Eragon~  
"_Eragon, there was a breach in your wards last night, in the room with your Rider swords." _Eragon snapped out of his waking dreams, "_A breach? How! I used the Name of Names to seal that room shut just as with the Eggs and the Eldunari!"_ Saphira snorted on her end,_ "Either we have a very sneaky thief, or this was another strange happening caused by Hjarta." _ Eragon was familiar with the Dragon's capability to defy all logic, without further ado he checked the armory. Using magic to find three of the swords gone, A black Broadsword, a gold Flamberge and a violet Katana. No thief could have carried those three blades, nor could any have broken his seal without knowing the name of names, so only one conclusion remained. The Dragon of Heart, has claimed her dues.


	9. Flame Palm and Vardaren

The Color of Destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter IX – Flame Palm and Vardaren

Though he tried his best to hide it, there was no keeping this fact from the rest of his clan. Bruenor did not only have the silver palm, he had a special one, he himself didn't think it very special, it was just shaped like a flame. "Who cares if it's a flame or a goat? It's just a bloody mark!" He would always say, and always he would be the response, "But Argetlam, it's different than the other Dwarf riders, it's different than the Elven and Human ones too!"

At the mention of the blasted elves Bruenor's axe would flare up, "Don't even get me started on the durned pointy-eared tree lovers!" The only one who seemed to share his sentiment was Sol, every time an elf was mentioned Sol would show Bruenor the look on an elf's face when Sol did not choose that individual. The pair shared hearty chuckles at that, nothing cheered him up more than a displeased elf.

With every day Bruenor allowed Sol to get a little closer, and eventually his order of compassion went thusly, His Craft, His Clan, his King, Sol and then Himself. Though he'll never admit it, and someday, Sol might soar above the needs of all others. Bruenor wasn't a young Dwarf, so that would take time, time and battle.

~Eragon~  
Eragon knocked on the Lost One's door, but only to be polite. The issue of the Rider swords was urgent, and he wanted to know exactly how it happened. It didn't take long for a somewhat sheepish-looking teen to open his door, holding in his right hand a small dagger seemingly of normal metal and a heart shaped violet gem. "So it was you, how did you get in to the armory?" Eragon asked, trying his hardest not to sound accusing. The Lost One shook his head, "No Eragon-Ebrithil, 'twas not I, but Hjarta."

As Eragon gazed over at the hatchling, she winked with her left eye and hummed, seeming pleased with herself. "A hatchling… broke through several unbreakable barriers, and then fused three rider swords together into that?" The boy shrugged, "Yes, that pretty much sums it up." Eragon rubbed his temples, without looking at the new rider he said shortly, "Well, what are you going to call it? If Hjarta made it for you than by every right it is your Rider's… blade."

The boy's face went blank for a moment, and Eragon knew he was consulting Hjarta before making a decision, after about ten minutes he finally opened his eyes, "Vardaren is my blade." The Dagger seemed to agree, the gem on the hilt glowed in recognition. This event did not pass Eragon's eyes, he saw it, and acknowledged that the theft of the blades was meant to be. "I see, OathKeeper eh? A fine name, but I don't know how you will keep any oaths with that needle."

Hjarta hissed at him, but the Lost Child looked unperturbed, instead he said mysteriously. "It won't remain a needle for long, of that I am sure."

~Nahli~  
Nahli asked every eagle over the forest of Du Weldenvarden if its name was Fethrkonungr, but every one of them gave signs that they were not, the king of birds is likely immortal thought they. "_Well, immortal does fit Blagden's description well enough."_ Thought Nahli, so she headed for the throne of Queen Arya, to consult with the psychotic white raven.


	10. Green: The King of Birds

The Color of Destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter X – Green: The King of Birds

Arya twitched slightly where she stood, Blagden was acting up again, croaking out jokes and puns about dragons nonstop as the elves tried to concentrate on the wind-egg. Eventually Arya commanded him to leave the room, and perch somewhere else. Just before Blagden flew out the young elf Nahli strode in, looking earnestly at Blagden. Addressing Arya first in all of the elven courtesies Nahli asked, "Arya Drottning, may I consult with Blagden a moment?" Arya didn't blink, but she found the question surprising, "Blagden? Why ever would you want to speak with him? He will only tell you riddles, often with insulting answers."

But Nahli was adamant about it, "I know my Queen, but I need to ask if Blagden is the Fethrkonungr mentioned in my dreams." Blagden croaked out a laugh and shook his stark white head, "The egg is rocking like a baby in the day, Fethrkonungr is he and is awaiting the day." Arya widened her eyes, "You! You heard the name of this dragon in a dream? Quick, speak to him, so we may see him hatch!"

~The Lost One~  
"We have to start your training immediately, none of us know enough of this prophesy to allow further delays, I know Hjarta is young bu-" The Lost One cut in, "Do not worry about it Eragon-Ebrithil, Hjarta has shown that she can take care of herself, and apparently me as well." Hjarta growled her agreement. Already three feet long was she, and although she wasn't anywhere near big enough to ride, she could now learn to fly and fight. Eragon pursed his lips, but nodded, "Come with me then."

~Nahli~  
Nahli scanned the emerald green surface of the egg, its shell was riddled with twisted white lines representing wind. They had no specific pattern, and no gales, hurricanes or tornadoes could be picked out from the complicated design. Feeling slightly nervous that eight elves including their rider queen was watching her, she strode up to it timidly, speaking his name softly. "Fethrkonungr, awaken." And he did, just as Hjarta and Sol before him. But what was this dragon's Wyrd?

~Sol~  
"_Durned-partner-of-hearth-and-mind, why does he have to be so stone-earth-stubborn?" _Thought the young dragon as he continued to follow Bruenor around, like every day before now. Sol chose Bruenor because of the great fire in his heart, but even though he had chosen Bruenor long ago, he could not hatch until the Dwarf spoke his name, which thankfully, he did. Sol did not regret his decision, he found nothing wrong with Bruenor, even if he was overly-stubborn. Sol was privy to Bruenor's deepest thoughts and feelings, so he could live in the dwarf's shadow knowing that deep down, Bruenor loved Sol greatly, and that was enough.

~Fethrkonungr~  
The pieces of shell broke apart with ease, how happy he was to be free! And not only was he free, but after thousands and thousands of years he had found the one he was waiting for, the soft-voice-kind-face-elf that he saw through his bright green eye. Fethrkonungr yawned and stretched his wings, suddenly the elf's left hand touched him softly, it was warm and soft. And as the magic imbued within him was released, he knew he had left the swirl-shaped silver mark on her hand. He hummed quietly, feeling like a run after his millennia long nap.


	11. The Dreams of a Kull

The Color of Destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter XI – The Dreams of a Kull

Ulrahk woke up to a dancing and cheering Dam in the morning of the second month of spring, she was right to be proud, her only child had grown at least a foot almost overnight. If there was any doubt, it was gone now, Ulrahk was a Kull, and great things would come to his honor because of it. But even still, Ulrahk was troubled, in his dream he saw a great rock flying towards the world he knew as his own, it would fall from the sky and land not far from here. Ulrahk had refrained from telling the shaman, he didn't want to bring attention to his oddity now, no, not when there was greatness to be achieved.

Ulrahk wrestled with his fellows, defeating all but two in combat. He raced with the same, reaching a draw with only one other, and sparred with Nar Yelok. A great hammer as his weapon, a shield and long sword as his opponent's, Ulrahk won, and Nar Yelok said in the Urgralgra tongue, "When you have won more battles and earned much glory it would be my pleasure to name you was our next Nar. But until then Ulrahk, you must grow out your horns a little farther." Ulrahk was pleased, by the first month of summer; he would be fit to challenge Nar Yelok for the title.

~The Lost One~  
The first lessons were slow, but interesting. He learned to care for Hjarta, everything from feeding to grooming. But while Eragon taught this to him, Saphira had taken Hjarta under her wing, and was now explaining to her the broad points of flying, not going too specific yet. But enough that she didn't have to rely entirely on her legs from this point on.

~Bruenor~  
"What was Rhunon's secret? I know the metal, I have the skill, I even know the spells she uses, but still I do not know how to make a Rider's blade!" Bruenor had been stomping around his smithy all day with this problem. Luckily Sol had been one to point out that Bruenor hardly needed a Rider's blade with the axe he had. It was already made of Adamantine, and it caught fire when he was enraged. "_I know Sol, but the Rider's swords aren't for me, they are for the rest of the Riders. As far as I'm concerned my Axe is better than any blade of Rhunon." _

Sol shrugged and looked indifferent; he cared little for the other riders, as long as Bruenor could protect himself, the other dragons can eat their riders for all he cared.

~Saphira~  
"_See the warm-up-fly-wind Hjarta? You must always look for these while flying, especially when you want to climb higher in the hollow-blue-high-sky." _ Hjarta listened intently with her violet eyes gleaming as they flew above the castle. "_Yes Saphira-Elda." _She would respond, copying what she heard the Two-legs-lost-hatchling call Eragon-partner-of-her-mind-and-heart many a time. Saphira sighed contently, smoke breaching her nostrils, there was nothing a dragon loved more than praise.

"_Try to remain as upright as possible, someday you will be big enough to carry your partner on your back, and the two-legs races tend to fall off easily." _Hjarta and Saphira shared a laugh at that, there was another thing dragons loved to do, make fun of beings that couldn't fly. Afterward Hjarta crooned softly, "_Can we go back to my True-heart-rider-friend?" _Saphira blinked once, "_Yes child, of course."_


	12. The Sky Falls

The Color of Destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter XII – The Sky Falls

Hjarta and Saphira happily landed back on the cliff where their studies took place, Hjarta bounding up to her bonded and tackling him over, seeming to forget just how big she was getting. "Oof! Y'know you're going to have to stop doing that eventually right?" Hjarta flicked out her tongue, "_oh… oops" _Saphira meanwhile was relaying Hjarta's progress to Eragon, who appeared pleased as well. "You're dragon is doing well, Lost Child, I don't think any more of Dragon-care is needed right now. It is time to begin combat, but only a beginning, first allow me to explain how and when…"

~Ulrahk~  
Over the past month or so Ulrahk's horns had grown quite a bit, he was almost ready to take on Nar Yelok in single combat, and lead his village in war and in the games. If one knows anything at all about the Urgralgra, they would know that nothing can distract them from the pursuit of glory.

But 'nothing' falls short of a large object falling from the sky and shaking the earth around said Urgal. And that is exactly what happened, as Ulrahk gazed up in the sky amid daydreams he noticed a fire in the sky, and it became larger and larger with each passing second. Soon it became apparent that the fire was going to land here, so he shouted at his fellows to get into the nearest house or cave, grabbed his family and sheltered them within.

The impact was huge, and bright, an orange light pervaded everything around. The earth shook with the force of a 4.5 quake, and prayers and screams of terror were all to be heard after the blast. When it was all over, still the Urgralgra hid in their holes, Ulrahk, out of curiosity, bravery or stupidity uncertain, ventured out of his cave to the smouldering space rock. All of the above it seemed, He was curious, brave, and stupid, but he was rewarded for it because in the middle of the space debris, sat a glittering orange stone…

~Bruenor~  
"_Ride me" _Sol poked, "No," Bruenor would respond, "_Ride me" _he would say again seconds later. "No" Bruenor would say again, Ride me, no, ride me, no. Back and forth this would go, getting nowhere for either of them. Sol and Hjarta were roughly the same size, Sol was only bigger because he was male, Hjarta was just under the size she needed for him to ride, but Bruenor was a dwarf, he was small enough that Sol could fly with relative ease.

Still, Bruenor was being difficult, nothing new there. Sol was the embodiment of fire, and so long as Bruenor fueled his desire, he would never burn out, and never give up. "_I know you don't have the dwarf-air-fear that our clan members do, so what's the problem?" _Sol asked, using the dwarven tongue nearly fluent by this point. "Because, I don't want the other durned Knurlan to follow me around anymore then they already do, if it were not for them I would ride you, maybe." Sol perked up, "_would you like me to eat them?" _

Bruenor snorted, "Tempting, but no, they are mine people. An elf however, if one ever bugs me you have full permission to eat it." Sol licked his fangs, "_I'm holding you to that Bruenor-Knurl-hearth-friend." _ And as the desire to become the rider he is steeped in, Bruenor knew he must do something, and that would be to leave Farthen Dur, and everything behind.


	13. A Rival Apprentice

The Color of Destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter XIII – A Rival Apprentice

Nahli and Arya had their work cut out for them, for the unexpected happened immediately after the hatchling emerged. Completely unheard of for any dragon at this age was flight, so the last thing any of the Alfakyn expected was for Fethrkonungr to take flight. A free spirit it seemed, the hatchling was so glad to be free he took flight with earnest, before Nahli could even bond herself to him. Arya whistled for Firnen.

"Nahli hop on, we must catch him before he becomes a wild dragon. You must touch him within twenty four hours." Nahli threw on her quiver and grabbed her bow, not entirely sure why, and followed Arya onto the green dragons back as soon as he arrived. "Ride Firnen, we have a hatchling to catch!" In his mind, Firnen responded eagerly so both could hear him. "_The Little-Green-Hatchling yes? Let us be off."_

__ It didn't take too long before the trio spotted the hatchling relatively low to the ground, pestering a flock of birds. Firnen dived right for him, going for the blind spot at the back of his tail; it was quite remarkable for him to see a new-born flying so well, even if he wasn't very good he still could somehow. The birds flew off, leaving the hatchling confused for a second, a second too long however as Firnen took the initiative and grabbed the young one in his talon, keeping a firm, but gentle grip as he steered them to the forest floor.

Arya congratulated Firnen on the catch, causing him to hum in satisfaction, Nahli thanked him as well, amplifying the accomplishment. Nahli wasted no time in entering Fethrkonungr's field of view; he flicked his tongue happily at the site of her, looking as if he really didn't think there was anything wrong with his little stunt. Nahli smiled with amusement and young binds of affection that, with time, will grow into unbreakable chains of love. She reached towards him, and placed her hand on his tiny snout.

Arya looked away, she knew what it would feel like, Nahli didn't. After the waves of cold wracked her body, her vision blurred and she knew no more.

~Eragon~  
Eragon stood in the mirror room, consulting with an elf that had, "The great displeasure of stating Arya Drottning's absence." Eragon frowned, "What could possibly be happening that demands Arya's personal attention?" The elf shook his head, "Sorry, she bid me not speak of it, you'll have to learn it fr-Oh! Lady Arya, your back." Arya dismissed the elf, to Eragon; she looked as if she'd just gone for a high speed flight. He felt the tips of his ears go red as he again noticed two separate looks she gave him, her normal one, and another one that flashed across her face for only a fleeting moment.

Arya appeared to notice nothing, but that didn't really mean anything when dealing with elves. "Eragon, I apologize for not revealing this sooner, but in all honesty it completely rose over me, my duties must need relieving if I can even forget matters of this importance." Now Eragon was worried, Arya was busy, which he knew, but busy enough for her to forget something important?

"What is it? is something wrong?" She gave a brief and weary smile, "No, more like something right. You see, we found another 'Prophesy egg' not long ago, and it hatched just an hour ago." Eragon gaped, "A-another one? And it hatched already!" Arya looked mildly amused, something which used to be harder to do, before they trusted each other so completely. "Yes, and if you are willing and able, I'd like to send her to you immediately, I believe she will make an excellent rival student for the Lost One." Eragon avidly agreed, and immediately began plotting the escort trip.

In less than a week, the Lost One would have a rival apprentice.


	14. Murtagh Returns

The Color of Destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter IXV – Murtagh returns

Murtagh and Thorn flew south, back towards the very northern peaks of the spine, back home. It has been many a decade since the dragon and rider pair had left Alagaesia, but now they were ready. Murtagh grimaced as he remembered, Nasuada was long dead, he tried not to dwell on it, but her fate graced his thoughts from time to time. They could near have been, at least not for long anyways, he was an immortal rider, and she was a mortal queen. Though their fire would have burned fiercely, it would soon burn out.

Thorn growled softly, knocking him out of his reverie, he silently thanked Thorn; his bound partner would not allow him to dwell on the past, especially since they left it behind them. Something caused his wards to ripple slightly, but not falter. Startled, he halted Thorn in the air and scanned the ground, they were flying over an Urgal village by the looks of it, but something was different, an object radiating great magic.

Showing no fear of the Urgals, and no anger either due to his discipline, Murtagh landed just outside of their settlement and strode inside briskly. His hand wasn't anywhere near Zar'oc as he walked, he knew he could procure it when needed. Seeing a very large, but obviously quite young Kull pick up the object, he flinched as if expecting it to vaporize him, instead Murtagh felt like vaporizing the Kull, this wasn't just any magic object, it was a dragon egg…

~Ulrahk~  
The Kull was entranced by the dull radiance of the large oval-shaped stone, it looked just like one of the stones of recent Urgal legend. If this prove true than it might well be a dragon stone, which is befitting of any beautiful stone of perfect oval shape and unmatched hardness. Ulrahk did not even notice the dark-haired rider approach towards him as he cradled the rock in his large, gorilla like arms. Murtagh wasn't about to wait, "Do you even realize what you are holding, Urgal? Only your elders are allowed possession of the eggs until they hatch, Eragon told me of the change himself."  
Ulrahk did not personally recognize this human, but he knew him from the stories, looking down at the orange dragon egg he replied, "I do not know where you come from Blood-blade, but you obviously did not see this egg present itself to me from the sky, the impact shook the very earth we stand on." Murtagh wasn't impressed, "I was in the air, and I think I would have noticed an object falling from the sky… well, perhaps not this small." Still, dragons to not lay eggs in the stars why would one fall from them?"

Ulrahk did not have an answer, but he knew what he saw, "Whatever you say, Blood-blade, but my people will vouch for me, this egg fell from the sky, and landed right where I was standing before." Murtagh gazed at it, "Fine, but if it does not hatch for you within the week I'll have to take it to Eragon, and don't think you can resist me, hiding a dragon egg will make Thorn very… un-agreeable."

The Kull's eyes drifted to the edge of the village, Thorn was gazing at him with one eye, as if daring him to take on the dragon-kin. Not even this hot-blooded ram wanted to take on the dragons, he grudgingly agreed.  
"Good," Said Murtagh with little worry, "I hope your Dams don't mind if Thorn and I stay here, I'm not letting that egg out of my sight." Ulrahk just grunted, he could tell that he and Blood-blade would be butting heads for a long time to come…


	15. First Impressions

The Color of Destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter XV – First impressions

Have you ever woken up with a Dragon's snout two inches from your own first thing in the morning? No? Didn't think so, but this guy had, and it's an experience that tends to make one jump. But He resisted, not wanting to wake her from her peaceful slumber. Something he noticed while being this close to her face was, that smoke did not emerge from her nostrils as he expected. Well, it was sort of like smoke, but not really, it's hard to explain.

The stuff was clear, and warm to the touch, sometimes cold or sharp as well, yeah I said that, sharp air. The stuff did not float upwards like smoke; it kind of just dissipates into the oxygen tracelessly. Hjarta woke up soon after he got curious, she was attached to his mind like any other bound dragon, but Hjarta seemed different. She seemed connected to the emotions of everything, especially his own. All he had to do was ask and she would tell whether Eragon was in a good mood that day or not.

As it turns out Eragon was in a very good mood, he burst through the door to his room with a wide grin on his face. "I have good news, another student has been taken under Saphira and I's wing so to speak. And they too have a 'special' dragon."

The youth blinked as he gently tried to arouse Hjarta from sleep, "Another one like Hjarta? But if there are only as many as there are colors like Umaroth-Ebrithil said, then doesn't that mean the prophesy is one step closer to completion?" Eragon nodded, "Yes, and fortunately we have at least two said colors on our side, I am confident the odds will be in our favor at this rate, however the prophesy is long off, presently I want you to meet your new rival."

~Nahli~  
Nahli and Fethrkonungr stood in the courtyard stationed in front of the Dragon Sanctuary, Saphira-Ebrithil was watching over them closely and assuring them that Eragon was coming out to greet them shortly. "_But Bjartskular, I saw him rush inside just as I came here, should he have just greeted me then?" _Saphira puffed out smoke, "_He wishes to show you something, well, two somethings." _Nahli sighed, like Fethrkonungr she was terrible at waiting, if healers knew the scientific term they would likely say she had ADHD. But it wasn't long before she saw Eragon reappear, and with him was…

~The Lost One~  
When Eragon opened the door before him and into the sunlight the young man was hit with a startling sight, an Elf maiden. He had seen elves before, where, when and how he wasn't sure but he remembered them, but this one hit him strangely, he looked at her and all the sudden he felt like running or flying. She was freedom incarnate, a wild thing that cannot be contained, a carefree sense emanated from he that left him thinking. 'I have _got _to become friends with this person.'

Now I know what you thinking, 'Yeah, friends… sure.' But if you think about it, he had no memory, what if he was already in a relationship and he just didn't know it? Bad day for sure, so that combined with his innocent nature and intentions means he has no romantic interest in her at all as of yet, even if he does find her spectacular. Hjarta however took one look at Fethrkonungr, snorted and pointedly ignored him. Apparently she did not find his emotions pleasing, or his appearance, or… something.

This could get interesting…


	16. Friendly Competition

The color of Destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter XVI – 'Friendly' Competition

Nahli stared at the violet eyed humanoid with vague curiosity, it was always a strange feeling to meet another rider, she felt it when she met Arya for the first time after becoming a Rider, and again when meeting Eragon. But this meeting felt different, the male in front of her was different, _Hjarta_ was different, her palm glowed, the silver spiral on it burned slightly. Looking up, the other Rider's heart-shaped one did the same, he raised his eyebrow but didn't seem perturbed, Nahli however…

~The Lost One~  
Eragon seemed to have evaporated, Saphira too, which was impossible seeing as how large she was. But there you have it, neither of them were there anymore and he was left alone with an Elf that might just as soon kill him as befriend him, wonderful. Nahli walked up to him, her little green dragon at her heels, got within his personal bubble of space and asked… "What are you?"

He blinked, well. That was anti-climactic, not to mention really, _really _rude. But then again, he really didn't have an answer, "I… I don't know, I don't know anything about myself." Nahli looked confused, understandable for the one who _didn't _have amnesia. Fethrkonungr broke the tension however, bounding up to him and head-butting him happily, as if a sign of affection.

Rubbing his head he asked Nahli, "Does he always do that?" Nahli shrugged, she looked just as surprised, so instead he addressed the green dragon directly. "_Who might you be free-green-one?" _ If Nahli was privy to their conversation, she might have been startled at the Lost One's use of dragon-speak, they tended to blend descriptions and names together like that. He blinked a green eye, "_King of Birds." _He responded in the ancient language.

Nahli's natural tongue was the ancient language, and it was the only one that the violet rider knew, still. Hearing 'Fethrkonungr' in his language sounded really weird, "_you don't look like any bird I know." _ He turned to Nahli again with a raised eyebrow, "You named him the King of Birds? He's a dragon you know; they pride themselves above mortal birds." He meant it as a joke, good thing Nahli was one of the most light-hearted elves ever. She laughed like the wind through willow trees combined with the song of a black-capped chickadee. "I suppose it'll be useless to ask you your name, but until I find a nickname for you, I'll tell you mine. I am Nahli, and yes, this is Fethrkonungr. What is her name?"

Hjarta had fallen asleep at his feet during their apparently boring conversation, the lost one had found out that Hjarta is one of the most fun companies there is, but she cares absolutely nothing for anyone but Love, which is what she calls him. "She is Hjarta…" The he laughed, realizing how stupid he sounded earlier, he made fun of her green dragon but he had taken a very similar naming scheme himself. "Never mind Nahli, our Dragons have cool names, both my Heart and your King of Birds."

Nahli smiled and addressed Hjarta, who blinked once, he couldn't here but she looked a little more impressed then she usually did, which admittedly wasn't much. After they were done Hjarta sighed, "_You should ask Eragon if you two can spar, I want to show Fethrkonungr whose boss…" _

~Ulrahk~  
"Your time is up, the egg hasn't stirred; now hand it over or suffer the consequences." Ulrahk chuckled, "That is not our way, human, I challenge you for possession of the egg." Murtagh looked at him coldly, "Are you daft, Urgal? My story is told in your halls and painted on your walls; I could kill you, easily and with little effort." Ulrahk drew his large mace from his back, "Then prove it, my dreams are haunted, the spirits speak to me. I know this is what I must do to hatch the egg."

Murtagh just shook his head, "I don't know who you think you are, Kull. But you are obviously touched in the head, spirits do not speak in any language we understand, and most would prefer to kill you." He drew Zar'oc, "Fine, name your conditions." The Kull responded, "The egg will sit between us, we will spar over it, not to kill or to knock out. We will do this until we tire or the egg hatches, no magic, no dishonor and no words besides a battle cry."  
And so the pair prepared their arena, Murtagh was left with only one hopeful thought, 'Perhaps this Kull isn't as retarded has he looks…'


	17. Orange: Blood Lust

The Color of Destiny, Du Hjarta Vrangr

Chapter XVII – Orange: Blood Lust

The rather large orange egg was placed on a tree stump in between the two glaring figures, Murtagh was unnerved, the Kull he faced wasn't nearly as stupid as any he had ever met before. Murtagh new his plan, he was going to have them fight over the egg to please the child inside. The egg was decorated with ever-shifting scenes of combat, so naturally one might think that battle is what it desires.  
Eragon had shown Murtagh the 'special' egg he found before via two-way scrying, that one had hearts all over it, and from what he had gathered it required someone with a great capacity for love to hatch. This one though, it craved combat, he could almost feel the bloodlust radiating from within the dull orange surface. Ulrahk, as the Kull had named himself was grinning at it with a twinkle in his eye that looked creepy on something non-human. It could be he felt the bloodlust as well, and as a Kull, he loved it.

In the name of Urgralgra honor, Murtagh had to lower all of his wards, or he would never be respected among the Urgals, and the egg would be lost. Murtagh himself was lost however, because he knew that if he didn't fight the egg was lost, and if he did fight the egg would likely hatch… The duel gong sounded, and Murtagh had to go into defence within the first second, unbelievably the Kull had leaped forward much faster than he expected of their lumbering race. Murtagh held his mace against his cross guard, twisted out then slashed, only to have it deflected of the crude mace.

Murtagh sneered, 'So, the Urgal can use finesse with a blunt weapon? Fine.' He couldn't speak his mind, there are to be no taunts in this battle due to the conditions, only battle cries. The Urgal feinted a strike to his left shoulder and instead whipped it around to his right ear; Murtagh just barely deflected it, and was forced to use a jab to get the Kull to back up.

The Urgal obliged, dug in his heels and vaulted forward, bringing down his mace roaring. The Rider rolled away, grunting, 'How am I supposed to get serious if I don't want to accidently kill him?' He slashed with three deceptive cuts, the first two were blocked, the third got the Urgal on his right thigh, not deep enough to hamstring him however. Ulrahk bellowed "_Crusher!"_ As he slammed his mace at Murtagh horizontally with all his might, the attack was blocked, but that's not the problem. The egg gave a squeak, and it was far too deep-sounding from what he knew of dragons, "Oh no…"

~Ulrahk~  
"Enough! It has worked, I knew it desired battle!" Ulrahk was pleased with himself, if there was anything he knew it was combat, and even a baby dragon had to relish in the glory of it. Murtagh however, "Sorry to burst your bubble, but it wasn't just the battle that caused it to start hatching. What did you say just before it squeaked again, Crusher?" A crack appeared in the egg as if in answer, Murtagh must have thought it the lamest dragon name in existence, Ulrahk however was pleased. "Fitting it is for one that will become large enough to shake the mountains around him!" Murtagh just sighed, but the sigh changed to a gasp, as Crusher didn't just break out of the egg, he caused it to explode.

Ulrahk didn't wait, he pounced on Crusher even as the hatchling started to saunter off, as the Urgal touched the copper scales, a shield-like mark was burned onto his flesh…

~Murtagh~  
The Son of Morzan had to admit, this was the most thick-headed Urgal he had ever met in his life, he wasn't even knocked out cold. He just got up groggily, as if a bit drunk or dizzy, but shrugged it off with little problem. "Urgal, you are a monster of your kind. None should be able to stand after the icy-waves of magic settle in. I don't care how much you protest or your people, but I will not let you out of my sight for a century at least."

The Kull just gave his horrible tusk-y grin, "You fought well brother Rider, I would have you invited to my own hall just for not falling to my mace." Murtagh raised an eyebrow, "You actually expected to beat me? If it weren't for your restrictions on not fighting to the death, I would have felled you in seconds." The Urgal nodded, "Yes, likely. You obviously do not know our customs, most would understand that as a compliment." Murtagh grunted, "Whatever, but can Thorn enter the village now? He's getting impatient." The Urgal gazed back at Thorn, Murtagh knew he wouldn't dare refuse him unless he wanted to have his fur between Thorn's teeth. "Yes, I see no issue with it, as long as he doesn't eat us that is." Murtagh couldn't help but bark out a short laugh, "No, he won't eat any of you as long as you all leave him be.

As Ulrahk lead Murtagh to his hall, the fates were weaving the most peculiar relationship, this could end very well, or very bad for both of them…


End file.
